What might have happened
by chocolate-thief
Summary: What happens after Henry says "it's a long story?" What happens in his life, in Jo's life, in Lucas's life and Hanson's? Heck, what even happens in Lt Reece's life? What does life now hold for the team at the 11th precinct? Will it continue as normal or will everything change?
1. Chapter 1

**I finally started my next story! It's going to be about what I think should have happened if season 2 was a reality. Every two chapters will form 'one episode', with a murder investigation. Here is the first half of the first case and I hope you enjoy it :)**

A shrill scream split the cool night air, funnelled out of the open front door and into the quiet street. Windows and doors opened one by one, faces appearing as they peered out into the empty street.

A woman all but flew out of the house, slamming the door behind her, her shoes and coat falling off and laying like a flat person on the sidewalk. The women dropped to her knees in the middle of the road that in summer held scores of children playing games and eating ice cream. Now the road was empty; a black streak on the earth leading into the distance, the only people watching from the houses that stood watch on either side like guards at a palace.

An unearthly sound rose from her throat, tearing the silent evening apart for the second time in less than 5 minutes. Her cries drew the watching people from their homes, dragged them out onto the street with her.

"Are you alright?" A man crouched down beside her, his hand hovering over her shoulders as though he was unsure if he should touch her or not.

"No!" The woman's cries formed words; words filled with anguish and despair. She lent down, resting her head on her knees. Sobs caused her back to heave up and down, her tears forming small puddles on the road. "Blood, blood everywhere." She choked out between sobs. "So much blood."

The man crouching beside her looked up at his neighbours before leaning down beside the woman. "Where's the blood?"

"Inside." The woman flung an arm towards the house she had just come out of. A man and his wife stepped out of the small crowd that had formed on the sidewalk and disappeared into the house, the door shutting behind them with a soft click. "There was blood everywhere," the woman was breathing hard, teardrops dripping from her nose. "There was blood everywhere and he's dead. Oh my god he's dead." She collapsed into tears. Just at that moment the front door to the house creaked open yet again, the couple who had gone inside staggering out of the house. The man was supporting his wife, who looked like she was going to be sick.

"Call 911." His voice rang out through the still air broken with only the muffled sobs of the woman in the road and the faint sounds of televisions from houses that had been abandoned as their occupants came to see what was going on. As the rest of his neighbours stared at him in shock a faint sound of theme music came from the houses as the 6o'clock news came on.

* * *

"It's a long story." Henry held the photo in his hand, staring down at it with such love and longing Jo thought it was almost as though he was trying to wish himself into the picture.

"Henry?" She prompted, raising her eyebrows at him. "Can you please explain it to me?" His eyes flicked up to meet hers.

"Oh, yes, of course." Henry blushed a little and looked down, looking flustered. "Sorry, I do appear to have forgotten my manners. Please come in." He held the door open, taking a step backwards to give her room to enter. Jo tried to meet his eyes as she passed him but his eyes remained downcast, fixed on the photo he held.

"Henry." She prompted for the second time and he flushed again, lowering the photo and shutting the door behind her.

"This way." He wove his way through the shop towards the stairs that led up into the rest of the apartment, Abe watching them go. Henry held the photo cradled carefully in his hands the whole way. When they reached the top of the stairs he turned a corner, entering a spotless kitchen that led into a lounge area. "Would you like a drink? Tea, perhaps, or coffee?" Henry waved her towards the chairs in the lounge as he opened a cupboard to get out two china mugs.

"Tea is fine." Jo took a seat in the lounge, inspecting her surroundings with a critical stare as Henry filled the kettle. "You have a lot of books." She commented, her eyes scanning the bookshelves laden with books, many of them old and covered with leather, and old clocks, all ticking away but seemingly displaying the correct time, five minutes to six.

"I collect them." Henry's muffled voice floated out of the kitchen as he searched for teabags, his head in a cupboard. "Earl Grey or English Breakfast?"

"English Breakfast please." Jo replied, her eyes still scanning the room in curiosity.

"Here you go." Henry placed a steaming cup in front of Jo and she picked it up, wrapping her fingers around it. She saw that Henry had placed the photo on the coffee table in front of him and was looking at it as he held his cup, lost in thought. Eventually he looked up with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry Jo, but don't know where to begin."

"Who are the people in the photo?" Jo began to ask, but her words were drowned out as a loud chiming noise filled the house with six loud bell sounds. Jo's eyes went wide in shock as they sought out the culprit of the sound. Eventually they came to rest on a tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Henry noticed her glance and chuckled slightly, shrugging.

"Once an Englishman, always an Englishman. You get used to it." He put his cup down onto the table.

"The people in the photo, who are they?" Jo asked again, "And why was the photo and your watch in the subway?"

Henry took a deep breath before leaning over the table and spinning the photo around so that it faced Jo. He pushed it towards her, pointing at the baby. "This is Abraham, when he was about a year old." He moved a finger until it rested over the woman holding the child. "She's Abraham's mother, her name was-"

"Sylvia." Jo interrupted him. "I remember that from that case" She was looking down at the photo, and didn't see Henry's face crumple slightly, didn't see his mouth, which was open to form the name _Abigail,_ close and then reopen.

"Yes." He finally said. "This photo was taken when they had just moved here from England after the war." His finger slowly drifted across the photo to rest on the man's face. The man who looked just like Henry. "And this is-"

A high pitched persistent ringing sung out from Jo's pocket. She pulled it out, mouthing 'sorry' at Henry as she did so.

"Martinez." She said as she answered it, eyes flickering down as she listened to whoever was on the other end. "Ok, we'll be right there… thanks Hanson." She hung up the phone and picked up her cup of tea. "They need us right away." She explained to Henry as she finished her tea.

Henry looked almost relieved. "Let me just grab my coat." He said standing and gathering up the tea mugs. Together they walked down the stairs into the shop where Abe sat behind the counter reading a book. Jo thought she saw Henry shake his head slightly at Abe as he passed, but told herself she must have imagined it.

* * *

"You never told me who that man was, or why that photo and your watch were in the subway." Jo commented as she and Henry drove to the crime scene. She felt rather than saw him stiffen slightly but when she turned to look at him at a red light he looked as relaxed as normal.

"Ah, the man." Henry smiled slightly. "He was my grandfather. Abe's family and mine have been friends for generations. When they moved over here my grandfather visited a few times. After my father was born he got to know Abe quite well as they were about the same age, and they went into business together. As to why you found the watch and photo where you did, I cannot say. They were in the pocket of one of my coats which was stolen. I assume whoever stole it emptied the pockets and kept the coat."

"You just happened to have a 70 year photo on you?" Jo asked sceptically as the lights changed and the car rolled forward. Henry was silent for a moment before he answered.

"I always carry it." His voice was rather small, a sad undertone in it.

"How come?" Jo asked, aware she was treading on delicate ground. "It doesn't have you or either of your parents in it." The silence between them stretched long and loud and when Jo snuck a look at Henry she saw his face was a little pale, his eyes locked on the road. What she didn't know was that Henry wasn't trying to get his emotions under control but was trying to think of a reason why he had the photo.

Eventually he spoke, still looking out of the car windscreen at the road ahead. "How much have I told you about my family in England?" His voice was low.

"Not much." Jo tried to contain her surprise. Henry never talked about his family. "All I know is that your father and Abe were business partners, and when your father died you moved here and took over his part of the shop."

"My father died just before I moved here." Henry was now looking down at his hands. "There was a fire that destroyed my family's home and killed everyone inside; my mother and two younger sisters. I was in the village at the time and I saw the smoke but by the time my older brother and I got there it was too late. There was nothing I could do to save them, but I managed to pull my father out." Henry stared at the window for a moment as buildings whizzed by. "He had smoke inhalation and died a few days later. He left his part of the shop and his pocket watch to me rather than my brother." He paused for a moment and took a shaky breath. "You have to understand we were quite a traditional family, and the business and watch should have gone to my brother. When my father gave them to me it drove a wedge in between my brother and I and I haven't seen him since." He trailed off.

"And the photo?" Jo prompted after a minute of silence.

"All the family photos in the house were destroyed. When I moved over here Abe gave me the one photo he had." Seeing Jo's confusion he added, "My father took all the photos of him and Abe on his camera and never got around to sending the copies back to America. Now they're all destroyed."

"Oh Henry." Jo reached out and patted his arm slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a long time ago now." Henry forced a smile onto his face. "I've moved on." He twisted slightly in his seat so that Jo's hand fell from his arm. She went to say something but they had arrived at the crime scene and Henry had already jumped out of the car, pulling blue gloves on as he sauntered over to Hanson calling "What have we got?" Sighing, Jo put the car in park and got out, following Henry through the crowd of onlookers and under the yellow police tape.

"Hey Jo." Hanson waved her over to where he and Henry were standing at the entrance to a house. "Victim is one Mark Johnson, 26 years old, lawyer. He was discovered by his girlfriend, but she's currently distraught." Jo followed Hanson through the house, Henry following close behind her. In one of the bedrooms a man was sprawled out on the bed, a stab wound in his chest.

"Do we have a murder weapon?" Jo asked, pulling on her own set of gloves.

"Not yet, but hopefully Henry can help with that." Hanson said, sliding his phone out of his pocket and tapping a few buttons. "Our girlfriend has calmed down a little, I'm going to go talk to her." He said, looking up. "You guys ok here?"

"Yeah we're fine." Jo replied, watching Hanson leave the room. Turning back to the body she asked Henry, "Can you tell what weapon made this?" She waited for his answer but got no reply. "Henry?" She asked, spinning to look at him. He looked distracted and a little unfocused, as though his mind was on other things. Sure enough, when Jo again said "Henry?" He snapped out of it, shaking his head slightly and saying,

"Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you ask?" He flashed Jo a charming smile and she smiled back, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"The stab wound, do you think you can work out what caused it?"

"Possibly." Henry moved closer to the body. He reached out with his hands and gently probed the stab wound. Looking up he said, "From the shape of the wound I can gather that it was probably a single edged blade, and from the size I would say maybe a standard kitchen knife. Judging on the lividity," He carried on, looking at bruises on the man's body, "I would guess that the time of death was about 2 hours ago."

"That would be about right." Hanson agreed, coming back into the room. "I just finished talking to the girlfriend, she says he gets back from work at about 4.30pm and she discovered his body just before six." He made a note in his notepad and had just opened his mouth to start speaking again when a series of soft beeps sounded from down the hallway.

"What's that?" Jo asked, moving towards the corridor. "Sounds like a washing machine or dryer." Henry squeezed past her into the hallway, heading towards the sound. He paused in an open doorway and looked back at Jo and Hanson.

"What about a dishwasher?" He asked, raising an eyebrow before disappearing into the room. When Jo and Hanson joined him in the kitchen he was studying the display panel on the grey and black dishwasher under the counter. "It appears that the standard wash setting on here is for one hour and 5 minutes." He said, standing up slowly, looking thoughtful. "So that means-" He was cut off by Jo finishing his sentence.

"It was put on after Johnson's death." She said excitedly, moving towards the machine. "So what's inside it?" She pulled the door to the dishwasher open and stepped back so Henry and Hanson could see.

"Woah." Hanson blinked. Henry just smiled his usual, lazy smile.

"I believe we have found our murder weapon."

 **So I'll try upload a couple of times a week.**

 **How did you like this chapter? Review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow this chapter took longer than I thought it would! Just in case anyone's confused, I'm going to try and make this story as realistic as I can, and so I'm using the points Matt Miller talked about in his Q and A as starting points (as in Henry didn't end up telling Jo) etc...**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"I believe we have found our murder weapon." Henry, Hanson and Jo all peered into the dishwasher where a single stainless steel knife sat steaming slightly from the hot water.

"Damnit." Jo swore under her breath. "We're not going to be able to get any prints off that." She pursed her lips in frustration. "First thing tomorrow we're going to go to Mark's law firm and see if anyone there knows anything."

"Actually, his girlfriend mentioned something about someone at his work." Hanson flipped through his notebook. "Here. She said that last week she came home early from work and heard him talking to someone by the name of Daniel Robius, and it seemed like a pretty heated discussion."

"Did she hear what they were talking about?" Jo asked curiously. Hanson flipped to another page in his book before nodding.

"She said she heard Mark say to Daniel that if he didn't stop it he was going to tell Mr Schmitt, who is their boss." He snapped his notes shut. "Sounds like a good place to start."

Jo turned to Henry. "I want to just quickly talk to the girlfriend, and then we can go. Do you want a ride home?" She asked, nodding her head at the doorway. "I can give you a ride back if you want."

"That would be much appreciated." Henry smiled, "I wouldn't mind talking to the girlfriend as well." he said. He followed Jo from the room, a small white china bowl with pink roses and a black line around the rim catching his eye as he passed it, and together they talked to the girlfriend. Everything that she said she had already told Hanson, but one thing she told he and Jo stuck in Henry's head. " _I left the door open when I came in because there was some grocery shopping in the car. When I saw his body I just flipped and ran out the house, pulling it shut behind me. I still remember the feel of the cold metal under my hand. And his body, it's stuck in my head; the house was so clean because the cleaner had come today, and she cleans everything until all the surfaces are spotless, and the blood was such a contrast to the house."_

* * *

For the ride back to the shop he was quiet, his face turned away from Jo as though he was looking out of the window. When they arrived at the shop he thanked her politely but disappeared through the open door before Jo could say anything. She watched the door swing shut behind him before she sighed, the car pulling away from the curb.

Henry and Abe watched her go from their seats inside. "What happened?" Abe asked as soon as she was out of sight. "You take her upstairs to tell her your secret, and the next thing I know you're running out the door on a case." He raised his hands in exasperation. "Am I right to think you didn't tell her?"

Henry chuckled. "You're right. I was going to tell her." He raised his hands as in defence against Abe's look. "I was going to tell her but when I was about to say that your mother was Abigail, she called her Sylvia, and it threw me off. Then we got called out to a murder and before I knew it I was telling her a story about my grandfather being the man in the photo." He shrugged before adding as he lifted up the trapdoor that led down into his lab, "By the way, if Jo asks, you gave me the photo because all my family photos were destroyed in a fire that killed my mother and two sisters, and then my father from smoke inhalation." Before Abe could reply the trapdoor had shut behind him with a soft thud.

* * *

"Morning Jo." Hanson called to her from his desk the moment she entered the precinct the next morning. "I found some information on that Daniel Robius." He waved papers at her as she made her way towards him, coffee in hand.

"Hanson why are you hear so early?" She asked, yawning.

"I was escaping babysitting duty, now do you want to see what I found or not?" Hanson answered impatiently. At Jo's nod he continued. "Right, so I was going through his financials and I saw several large deposits of cash being added to his savings account. On a hunch I looked at the law firm's financials, and the amounts of the deposits line up with large transfers out of the firm into a business account called 'SureFit'. I looked and 'SureFit' doesn't exist; its address is in an empty lot and the phone numbers and email on the website are bogus." Hanson paused for emphasis. "From this account large sums of money were withdrawn in cash and a few hours later deposits of the same amount were added to Robius's account." He threw the papers down onto his desk and looked to Jo for her reaction. To his surprise she was looking at her coffee cup thoughtfully. "Jo?" He asked. "You with me?"

She looked up apologetically. "Sorry I was just thinking about He-" She cut herself off from saying Henry's name. "I was just thinking." She finished. "So you're saying that Robius is essentially siphoning money from the law firm he works for." She slowly began walking to her desk, Hanson following.

"Yes. And I also think that that is possibly what our victim, Johnson, was talking to Robius about." Hanson pointed out.

"And Robius killed Johnson to keep his secret." Jo finished, spinning to face Hanson who nodded in agreement. "I'll go grab Henry and we can go talk to him." She plonked the coffee cup down on her desk before heading for the elevator.

"I'll meet you out front in a few minutes." Hanson called after her. Jo raised her arm to show him she had heard her as she jabbed at the lift button with her other hand.

As she rode down in the lift she found her thoughts returning to Henry. There was something about the story he had told her, something that didn't quite add up, but she couldn't think what it was, and before she could think about it anymore the lift doors were sliding open to reveal the morgue. Jo spotted Henry sitting at his desk in his office. She greeted Lucas with a small wave as she walked past where he was sitting before opening the door to Henry's office and sticking her head through, startling him. His hands disappeared from the table onto his lap where Jo couldn't see them, but before they completely vanished from sight she saw a corner of the old photograph; the rest was covered by his hands. There was definitely more to the story than he had told her.

"Hey, Henry, Hanson and I are going to go talk to some guy from Johnson's work, you want to come?" She leant on the door way, her feet in the main part of the morgue but her head and upper body in Henry's office.

"I would love to come." Henry flashed Jo a quick smile, standing up in such a way that his hands were obscured from her view as he turned to gather up his coat. There was a folder of papers sitting on his desk and Jo studied them from where she was standing, trying to work out what they were. When Henry turned back to face her he followed her gaze. "CSU reports from the case." He explained, heading towards the door. "Not much in them but CSU is trying to match fingerprints with ones in their systems now. We'll get those results later." Jo nodded, following him out the room and through the morgue like a shadow.

As they walked to the lift together she turned to Henry, saying "You never told me much about your grandfather, the one in the photo." They waited for the lift in silence, Henry fiddling with something in his coat pocket. _Probably the photo._ Jo thought to herself.

The lift arrived with a soft _ping_ and they entered, Jo pressing the button to go up. As the doors slid effortlessly shut, Henry began to speak. "He was called Henry Morgan, too. I was named after him."

"Well, seeing how much the two of you look alike I'd say it's a fitting name for you." Jo laughed, unaware of Henry stiffening next to her. "Was he an M.E as well?"

Henry shook his head, smiling, his tension gone. "No, but he was a general practitioner."

Jo laughed again. "I suppose your grandfather saved lots of lives then?" She said, unaware that the Henry Morgan she was talking about was standing right next to her.

"I wouldn't say that." Henry looked slightly uncomfortable. "But there was one little boy…"

* * *

 _Flames leapt from the windows of the building, scorching the air and sending out a plume of dark grey smoke. Henry took a step towards the door but jumped back as he was hit by a wave of hot air. Pulling his scarf from where is lay around his neck he tied it around his face like a mask to prevent himself from inhaling smoke or carbon monoxide._

 _From inside the building came the sounds of shattering glass, crackling wood and the high, thin wail of a young child. The last sound drove Henry on, into the building, eyes streaming from the heat. He could feel the heat on his skin but pushed on, deeper and deeper into the building. He could afford to die in this fire, but the child couldn't._

 _Suddenly the child, a young boy, was before Henry. The boy was crying, his face screwed up and red from heat and exhaustion. Henry crouched down in front of the little boy, saying "I'm going to get you out of here."_

* * *

"Henry?" Jo's voice broke through his memory and he blinked, realising the lift doors had opened and Jo was stopping them from closing with her hands. "Are you coming?" She asked, sending him a look that said _'are you ok?'_

"Sorry, I was just thinking." Henry shot her an apologetic smile, stepping out of the lift. Jo narrowed her eyes at him for a moment but decided not to push him for an explanation, saying,

"Well let's go then." She spun on her heels, making her way towards the exit where Henry could see, if he looked closely, Hanson's car waiting outside for them; Hanson himself leaning against it. Sighing he followed Jo out of the precinct and made his way to where she was standing with Hanson, watching him as he stepped across the sidewalk towards her, pulling his coat tighter around him as a cold wind blew up the street.

Smiling at Jo and Hanson he slid his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, his fingers brushing the photo of him, Abigail and Abe as he did so. The crinkle of the paper as it scratched against his hands froze the smile on Henry's face, it slowly dropping away until his face once again resembled the face Jo had grown to know over the last few weeks; cold, sad and withdrawn. "Shall we?" Henry's voice was calm and professional as he indicated the car, his usual humour gone, swept down the road by the wind.

Jo nodded, opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat, Hanson climbing in beside her and starting the car. Henry opened his door to get in but paused as he lowered himself into the seat, one foot in the car and the other on the sidewalk. His heart beat wildly in his chest, threatening to break his ribs. His eyes tracked the delicate blonde woman as she walked down the street with a baby cradled in her arms, the soft strains of a lullaby reaching his ears as she sang quietly to it.

For a second Henry was tempted to call after her, to chase her down the street until he caught up. His mouth opened slightly the way it had the previous day when he was explaining the photo to Jo, the name _Abigail_ already on his tongue.

He didn't realise he was out of the car, standing with both feet on the sidewalk until Hanson's voice broke through his dream like vision. "Henry?" Hanson voice was inquisitive, full of curiosity. It brought Henry back to reality and he realised the woman was older than Abigail was when they had move to New York, the baby too young to be Abe. He felt a heart wrenching sorrow as he sat back in the car, the door shutting firmly after him this time. He would never again see Abigail; never again hear her as she sang to baby Abraham to stop him crying.

Henry realised both Hanson and Jo were watching the woman, their eyes following her movements until she disappeared around a corner and out of sight. Then they both turned to face him at once, questions in their eyes.

"Do you know her?" Jo asked, her eyes sparkling with interest. It was a challenge; she was daring Henry to admit that he knew the woman, maybe even admit that the baby was his. At Henry's lack of a reply she raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly. Henry realised what she was thinking and hurriedly denied that he knew her.

"She just reminded me of someone I haven't seen in a long time." He explained sadly. Jo instantly knew who he was thinking about, the amusement she had felt at teasing Henry dying within her. She opened her mouth to apologise but Henry was already talking, his voice rising over hers, loud and strong and, in Jo's opinion, very un-Henrylike. "So where is this business we're going to?" His question was directed at Hanson; effectively letting Jo know they're conversation was over. Hanson flicked Jo a quick look at this change of subject, confused to why Henry had grown so defensive. Jo gave a small shake of her head, telling Hanson to drop it.

"Midtown." Hanson caught the hint and pulled the car out into the flow of traffic, his eyes meeting Henry's briefly in the rear-view mirror before they dropped back to the road. As Hanson weaved his way through the morning traffic Jo gave Henry a run down on Daniel Robius, explaining why they thought he was involved in Mark Johnson's murder.

When Jo had finished Henry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "It makes sense." He said eventually. "Johnson confronts Robius about the money and to keep it secret he kills Johnson. It would also explain why there were no signs of forced entry at the crime scene. If Johnson knew his murderer from work he would have let him in…" Henry tailed off looking thoughtful, his forehead creasing in a frown.

"What?" Jo twisted round in her seat. "Henry, what is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, I was just thinking." Henry looked startled at Jo's ferociousness.

"No, Henry, what is it? If you have an idea about something, then tell me." Jo's voice had risen slightly. "I thought we agreed, if you knew something about a case you would tell me. Remember what happened last time?" Henry winced slightly as he remembered the beating he had received from the museum security guard before Jo arrived.

"Fair enough." He had the good graces to look slightly sheepish and ashamed. "I was just thinking about something in the CSU report. Their dusting only picked up two sets of fingerprints on the front door handle on the inside. If Robius was the killer I would expect there to be three sets of prints."

Jo looked mildly confused. "Why?"

"Firstly there was the girlfriend who said when we interviewed her last night that she left the door open when she went in, and that when she closed the door behind her she felt the cold metal. However I noticed that the inside door handle was wooden and the outside one was metal, so she pulled it shut from the outside. I doubt her prints would be on the inside door knob because the cleaner came that day. Secondly, there was that couple from the crime scene who went in, so I'd expect that whoever opened the door on their way out would have left a print. That puts one print on the door. Thirdly, if Johnson opened the door to let Robius in then his prints would be on the door. There is no back door to that house, so unless Robius left through a window then his prints would be on the door also. That makes three sets of prints, but there were only two on the door." Henry explained.

"And we know that the killer didn't wipe the door knob because then there would only be one set of prints from the couple who went in." Now it was Jo's turn to look thoughtful. "So who does the second set of prints belong to? They may be our killer." She grabbed her phone and within seconds was talking to CSU staff back at the precinct. Hanson and Henry listened to her end of the conversation but to their disappointment they couldn't work out what was happening. After a few minutes she hung up and they both regarded her with apprehension, Hanson having pulled over to the side of the road.

"Well?" Henry eventually asked. "What did they say?"

"Let's put it this way." Jo said. "If the fingerprints belong to out killer then Johnson's death was a suicide." She lapsed into silence. "I guess this means we go back to plan one and talk to Robius." Hanson flicked the indicator on and was looking for a gap in the traffic to pull back out when Henry thought of something.

"Wait." He said. "What if our killer let themselves in, and left no prints on the inside door handle?" He waited for Jo and Hanson to work it out.

"The girlfriend." They cried at the same time, their voices loud in the small car.

* * *

"Adrianna Felder." Jo placed the folder on the table in front of Johnson's girlfriend. "24 years of age. You're an actor."

"That's right." Adrianna nodded nervously. "Why am I here? Do you know something about Mark's murder?"

Jo smiled; wide and content like a cat. "As a matter of fact we do." She leant across the table. "It took us a while to work out the fingerprints on the door handle, but eventually we realised that the killer let themselves in and didn't touch the door handle, and that they probably had a key. We looked into your bank records. You had quite a lot of money going into there for a low level actor and all deposits seem to have been made on a Wednesday or Thursday, either the day or day after the cleaner had been. I thought that was a bit suspicious, so I talked to the Mrs Robinson. She said you paid her to steal vases and the likes from your partner, and then you would sell them. I guess being an actor doesn't pay very well." Jo leaned even further across the table. "She also said that yesterday Mark confronted her about it while she was cleaning, and that she admitted it to him. He phoned you about it, and you went home and killed him." She stood up and regarded Adrianna, who looked up at her with wide eyes. "I must say though, your acting skills convinced your neighbours. None of them suspected you."

Jo turned to leave the room but was brought up short by a plea from Adrianna. "Wait!" She cried, stretching her hands out towards Jo. "I didn't do this, you have to believe me." She was sobbing, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Mark was everything to me. He changed me, changed my life. I actually have a future now, thanks to him. I would never do this, kill him or steal from him. You can check; I was at work until 5.30pm. I couldn't have done this."

"You are the only one with motive." Jo replied. "And if you didn't steal from him then where was that money coming from?"

Adrianna looked embarrassed, a flush growing on her neck and covering her cheeks. "I had a gig dancing at a club. I would… strip there once every week or two." She looked down. "Mark didn't want me to do it but I wanted to support myself. I was too proud to let him support me." She looked back up, making eye contact with Jo. "Is it possible that someone else was paying our cleaner to steal, and that they killed him?"

"I suppose it's a possibility." Jo admitted. "What club do you dance at?" She asked. "We'll need to check that they paid you that money. Also I'll need the name of where you work to check your alibi."

"It's called Wired." Adrianna supplied the name of the club, adding "And I work as a waitress in a café in town. Little King, it's called." She paused before asking "But why would my cleaner tell you I was the one paying her to steal? Why would she want to set me up like that?"

Jo frowned for a moment then said, "Why would she do that unless she had something to hide? Does she have a key to your house?"

"Of course." Adrianna answered, confused. "But you don't think that she killed Mark, do you? She's been our cleaner for almost a year!" Jo didn't answer, but turned and left the room, leaving Adrianna sitting alone in an otherwise empty room.

Hanson met her outside talking on his phone while Henry stood by Jo's desk on her phone, the computer on before him. When Hanson hung up he looked at Jo, nodding his head towards the door to the room where Adrianna was. "Her alibi checks out, her boss at the café says she works until they shut at five and then she stays to do dishes and vacuuming." He waved a hand towards Henry, who was still leaning over her desk, talking on the phone. "He's checking the club, seeing if they pay her to dance."

"I'm surprised he even knows how to work the phone." Jo commented to Hanson as Henry replace the phone and headed towards them.

"I heard that, detective." A small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "The club's manager says she dances there on a regular basis and they pay her in cash under the table and that she gets to keep any tips she makes."

"So she's not our killer." Jo summarised. "But I think the cleaner might be." She gave the two a brief run down on what Adrianna had said. Henry and Hanson nodded in agreement, Henry already picking up his coat from where it lay folded on Jo's desk where he had placed it.

"What are we waiting for?" He asked, flashing a charming grin at Jo. Hanson quickly typed the cleaners name into the system, his fingers flying over the keyboard like tap dancers, and was rewarded with an address. Together the three made their way out of the precinct and walked towards Hanson's car where it sat next to the curb where they had left it when they returned to the precinct with Adrianna earlier in the day.

They drove off down the road, Henry in the back seat again while Hanson and Jo sat in the front. Within minutes they were pulling up in front of the cleaner's apartment block, the two detectives jumping out of the car and heading up the stairs out the front of the building with Henry following behind.

Inside the building the climbed the stairs to the 5th floor, Hanson muttering under his breath about how he hated walk-ups and 'why can't all apartment buildings just have lifts in them?' Eventually they reached the door to the cleaner's apartment, Jo motioning to Henry with a tilt of her head that she wanted him to stay behind her and Hanson. For once Henry didn't mind complying; he didn't want another lecture from Jo about his non-existent self-preservation instincts.

Jo knocked on the door firmly, the four bangs echoing down the empty corridor. "NYPD, open up." She called, her voice loud and stern. When she got no reply she tried again, calling "Mrs Robinson this is the NYPD, open up!" Henry became aware of a few of the cleaner's neighbours poking their heads out of their doors, curious as to what all the commotion was about. There was silence as the detectives and Henry waited to see if they would get an answer. Just as Jo was about to try for the third time they heard a small noise from inside. There was a soft shuffling sound, as if someone was moving around but was trying not to make any noise. Jo cocked her head at the door as she moved aside, her eyes locked on Hanson's. He nodded once before taking a step towards the door and kicked it.

The door flew inwards, revealing a living room. On the beige couch sat a suitcase half full with money, a vase leaning against a cushion. A woman stood by the window, framed by the light streaming in behind her, as if she was going to climb out.

As Jo pointed her gun at the woman she supposed she was the cleaner; she'd never actually seen her, just talked to her on the phone. Hanson was sure it was her, however, as when he searched her name to get an address he had seen a photo of her as it flashed up on screen.

As Hanson and Jo detained the woman Henry examined the vase, frowning slightly as he looked at it. It seemed vaguely familiar; the pale pink rose pattern on thin, bone white china with a small black streak around the rim. Suddenly he placed it. Turning to Jo he explained it excitedly as Hanson read the cleaner her rights. "This vase matches a bowl in the victim's house."

The cleaner glared at them, her eyes burning with anger.

* * *

The sound of clinking glassware filled the room, soon replaced with the scrape of cutlery on plates and laughter. Jo was smiling at Henry across the table, her nose wrinkled slightly as she laughed at something Abe had said. Henry smiled back, slightly sadly, as he took in the woman in front of him. He'd thought no one would ever be able to fill the hole Abigail had left but recently Jo had begun filling the void, her bright presence lightening his life. That was part of the reason he had invited her for dinner after they closed the case; in the last few weeks he had found himself seeking out her company. The only thing that stopped her completely filling the gap was his secret. His curse. His immortality.

 **So this case is finished now! Next 'episode' will be up next week sometime, maybe on the weekend it depends. Don't forget to review! BYEEEE! :)**


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